


Eight Letters | Take That Imagines

by dxncingquxeen



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: M/M, OT5, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29066814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dxncingquxeen/pseuds/dxncingquxeen
Summary: Imagines for the boys of Take That!
Relationships: Gary Barlow/Howard Donald, Gary Barlow/Howard Donald/Jason Orange, Gary Barlow/Howard Donald/Jason Orange/Mark Owen, Gary Barlow/Howard Donald/Jason Orange/Mark Owen/Robbie Williams, Gary Barlow/Jason Orange, Gary Barlow/Mark Owen, Gary Barlow/Mark Owen/Robbie Williams, Gary Barlow/Robbie Williams, Howard Donald/Jason Orange, Howard Donald/Jason Orange/Mark Owen, Howard Donald/Mark Owen, Howard Donald/Robbie Williams, Jason Orange/Robbie Williams, Mark Owen/Robbie Williams
Kudos: 9





	Eight Letters | Take That Imagines

**Author's Note:**

> Been meaning to create an AO3 account for a while now, and finally had some time off to get around to it!  
> I’m gonna be posting all my Take That stuff on here as well as Wattpad, because to be honest, I think these boys are under loved and the Take That community on here seems really great. 
> 
> This oneshot was inspired by Nothing Feels Like You - Little Mix

If I had everything

It wouldn't mean a thing

Cos nothing feels like

Nothing feels like you

A dressing room, backstage, 2006

Arguably, Mark did have everything. After 11 long years, he was finally back with his brothers in Take That, and they were going on tour again. Time hadn't seemed to change a thing between them, really. They laughed and smiled together, perhaps, Mark had thought, more than last time. There was no mould to fill, no expectations, no strings attached. Take That were free to do whatever they pleased, and actually have a good time doing it.

It wasn't like there weren't good times in the 90's, after all, Mark doubted he'd still be calling Take That his brothers if he'd had such a horrendous time. Like everything in life, it had been a rollercoaster. But still, Mark knew this time would be different, and while the other three seemed convinced that change would make it better, Mark couldn't let it go: let go that there was something missing, something that would make this whole experience complete in his mind. Someone. Robbie.

Oh Robbie, poor, poor, broken Robbie. He was young when it had started, too young. He had been volatile and uncontrollable, even in the very early days, when they thought nothing in the world could reach them. They all thought they were invincible, but Robbie was really the only one who ever tested it, who pushed the boundaries, and then discovered the truth: If your name wasn't Gary Barlow, you were just a worker. If your name was Mark Owen, or Robbie Williams, you were just a back up, a catalyst for Gary's own career. You weren't dancers, like Howard and Jay, and your singing was made to be average at best.

Mark felt that was what connected him with the Stoke born lad. They were the extras, the pretty faces. They found comfort through each other, through late night talks in their often shared hotel rooms, through a shared understanding and empathy that the others would dare not comprehend. Through their bodies too, Mark reflected, a smirk playing on the corners of his mouth.

When Robbie left the band - no, when Robbie was shunned from the band, Mark hadn't thought much of it. It made his insides physically twist when he remembered that day, how blasé and selfish he had been. Out of all of them, Robbie had trusted him the most, given his all to him for 5 years, and what did Mark do that day? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Thinking back, Mark knows why he kept his mouth shut. It was purely self preservation, not wanting to lose his own place in the band. He chose his career over his love, over what was right. Ironically, Take That were no more a year later. To Mark, that had felt like karma, revenge for letting the man he loved go.

Now they were back, 11 years on, getting ready to go on stage together again, and yes, he did have everything. Yet, he'd never felt more alone.

He wanted Robbie with them. No, he needed Robbie with them. Of course, he loved the others, they were his brothers. But they had no idea what it was like, to be the forgettable one, the disposable one. They also could never give Mark the kind of love he required, you know, soul mate love and that kind of shit. Robbie was the only person he'd ever fallen in love with, and though he doubted Rob felt the same anymore,he missed him, desperately.

Mark hadn't realised how long he'd been sat on the dressing room sofa for, deep in his memories, until a voice spoke from behind him. It was Gary.

"You alright Markie?" He gulped. Robbie used to call him that.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good mate." Gary nodded uncertainly, coming to sit beside him.

"You sure? You've been sat staring at that wall for 40 minutes now, not that I'm doubting the beauty of the wall but.." Despite himself, Mark let out a chuckle, as did Gary.

"What can I say? It's a very interesting wall Gaz!" Though some of the tension had cleared, the brief smile had dropped from his band mates face.

"Call him." The response caught him off guard.

"What?"

"I'm not stupid mate, none of us are. You think we walked around with our eyes closed back in the day? We've not got long till we're on, but give him a bloody call!" Mark fumbled for the right words, face flushed hot with embarrassment.

"I..I don't know who you're talking about." He could feel his eyes were already wet with tears, and cursed himself. Robbie was his weakness, his lover, and it turns out everyone knew. Always had done.

"I think you do." Oh Gary Barlow, always the voice of reason. Or was that Jay? To be honest, he didn't really know anymore. All he knew is that Gary was right: he had to call Rob. There was no way he could perform tonight without hearing his voice. Even if it was just a hello, before hanging up when he realised who it was.

Mark nodded, slowly and reluctantly, reaching for the phone on the opposite table. Gary got up to leave, but hesitated at the door, turning back to Mark, a wistful glint in his eye.

"I'm proud of you mate, and I know he is too. You're gonna be ace out there tonight." At this point, Mark knew if he opened his mouth, he would start to cry. That was ok though, because Rob was the only person he'd let himself cry in front of, ever. He always felt safe to be vulnerable around him, and it worked both ways. He'd yet to cry in front of Gary Barlow though, so again, he could only nod, trying a small smile. Gary seemed to get the hint, dropping him a friendly wink and closing the door behind him.

He wondered where the other two were. Shagging in the bathroom probably, knowing Jay and Dougie. That didn't matter now though. All that mattered in that moment, was Rob.

With trembling fingers, Mark dialled the number. He almost laughed at himself, with the speed in which he selected the keys. Rob's number was ingrained onto his brain and would never leave.

It rang about 6 times, an agonising few minutes ensuing. Rob could be in LA right now, for all Mark knew, and this could be waking him up. Eventually, the ringing cut off.

"'lo, who's this?" The voice that answered was small and laced with exhaustion, but oh so familar. He let out an audible gasp.

"I-it's me, R-rob, i-its M-mark." Now it was Robbie's turn to go silent, and Mark had to brace himself. He'd heard the voice, if only momentarily. If he hung up now, he'd just have to find a way to deal with it.

"Markie? My Markie?" The 'my' was the final straw. Ungraciously as Rob had left the band 11 years ago, Mark began to sob. They were loud, and filled with anguish, but he didn't care.

"Shhh, it's ok mate, don't cry, you're ok, we're ok, I'm here, I'm here.." It wasn't much. Of course it wasn't much. This was Rob, in 2006, he's a fucking mess. Well, when isn't he, to be honest. But to Mark, it was everything, those words. He was there. Rob was there, for him. It was beautiful.

Robbie kept repeating this mantra of words until Mark's sobs subsided into the occasional sniff, and let him speak first.

"I'm sorry Rob, so so fucking sorry, I just-"

"No, don't apologise, never apologise for needing to cry." Though he couldn't see it, Mark smiled sadly.

"That's not what I was talking about." Rob hesitated, feeling his own heart clench painfully.

"It wasn't your fault, you know it wasn't."

"But it was. I was your..."

"My what, Markie?" His train of thought was halted abruptly. There had never been labels, back then. Neither saw themselves as gay. They just had each other.

"Your...best friend. I should have fought for you, I shouldn't have let you go. I was scared, fucking terrified, but mostly just a prick." Robbie laughed, a little too loudly for a hotel room at 3am, but it made Mark's heart leap. The old Rob was still in there, somewhere. There was hope.

"Fucking right you were mate." Mark joined in the laughter too then, and though there was nothing funny said, both had fallen into a fit of giggles. To a bystander, they must have sounded completely insane, probably high as the sky. Only they understood what it truly meant, just like 1993 all over again. When the laughter died down, Mark spoke again.

"Being back with the band, it made me realise..made me remember I never apologised, properly, and I had to hear you before I went on tonight. I wish you were here." Now it was Robbie's turn to smile sadly. So in sync, nothing had changed.

"You know I can't ever come back Markie."

"I know. Just, there's nothing that feels like you, I guess." Before Robbie could respond, there was a knock at the door, and Mark's heart sunk rapidly.

"Mate we're on in 5, you gotta get out of there!" Shit. He wasn't ready.

"Was that Dougie? Have you gotta go on?" Mark sighed loudly, panic bubbling in his chest.

"Yeah, that was my 5 minute call, shit, I'm not ready, oh god!"

"Jesus, you're starting to sound like me before a show."

"I'm scared Rob, honestly. I don't know if I can do this without you."

"Bullshit. You're Mark fucking Owen. You're gonna go do this, and you're gonna be bloody fantastic, I know it for a fact, mate." He took the time for Rob to say his speech to take some deep breaths, and let his lovers words envelope him, like a warm hug. If Rob believed he could do it, then he would.

"Thank you Rob, really. For everything." Robbie snickered.

"Don't get fucking sappy on me now mate, go break a leg." Mark chuckled fondly.

"Alright alright, would it be ok if I maybe, y'know, called you again, after the show? I feel like there's so much more I have to-"

"Of course mate, you can call me whenever you fucking like." It felt like a natural end to the conversation, but Mark kept the phone pressed to his ear as he pulled on his outfit. The sound of Robbie's breathing steadied his jitters. In fact, he only put the phone down with a minute to go, thinking Rob had probably fallen asleep. When he actually spoke for a final time, he had almost dropped the phone.

"Oh and for the record Markie? I'm still hopelessly in love with you."

And that was all Mark had needed to hear.


End file.
